


freshly baked bread

by strawberricream



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (these following tags apply to the final piece only), Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Light Angst, Married Couple, Married Life, Pregnancy, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 10,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26400169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberricream/pseuds/strawberricream
Summary: a series of small, domestic scenarios of you and your hq! bf/hubby
Relationships: Ennoshita Chikara/Reader, Futakuchi Kenji/Reader, Hanamaki Takahiro/Reader, Hirugami Sachirou/Reader, Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader, Kageyama Tobio/Reader, Konoha Akinori/Reader, Matsukawa Issei/Reader, Miya Atsumu/Reader, Sawamura Daichi/Reader, Sugawara Koushi/Reader, Suna Rintarou/Reader, Terushima Yuuji/Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 301





	1. grains of sugar; takahiro hanamaki

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to my lovely friend xin (tumblr @sugacookiies) for giving me this idea in the first place ♡
> 
> ferrets make a dooking noise when they’re happy! they kinda sound like a chicken lmfao

you wake up to the smell of pan-fried dumplings.

burying your face in your pillow, you groan. you stay like that for a minute, contemplating whether or not being conscious is worth it.

you hear shuffling behind you. the blanket on your body rides up and you turn around.

“hiro?” you mumble.

“hey,” he smiles, running a hand through your messy hair. you take a deep breath, savouring the feel of his large hand on you.

“are you hungry?”

you nod, lazily getting up from the cocoon you made.

“ow!”

you look down, checking over your fingertips as you pout at your ferret. she titters excitedly, running around in your lap and up your torso.

“when’d you get here, maimo-chan?” you boop her tiny pink nose, petting her along her back as she smiles. you named her maimo after satsumaimo, the japanese word for japanese sweet potatoes. she’s vaguely shaped like one and that’s what you had for lunch the day you got her, so maimo it is.

“she woke up just before you did.” hanamaki hands you a bowlful of dumplings, sitting on the couch behind you as he wraps an arm around you. you scooch forward, giving him more space.

maimo runs up to his outstretched fingers, playfully biting them before climbing up his arm and sitting on his shoulder.

you giggle around a mouthful of dumplings.

“what?” he asks, brow raised.

“it’s just,” you turn around and offer him a dumpling. “i still think the two of you look alike.”

“yeah?” he grins, taking a bite. “am i as cute as maimo?”

“mhm,” you nod, giving him another dumpling, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

(the first time you said that to him, he frowned a little.

“do you think i look like a weasel?”

“hiro, she’s a ferret, and yes, but you’re my ferret.”)

when you pull away, he doesn’t make eye-contact with you, cheeks pink. it makes your chest all warm and tingly as you lean in to give him another on his temple.

“very cute,” you add.

he decides to swallow down the self-consciousness to throw it back at you.

“well, you’re as sweet as strawberry frosting and as soft as strawberry milk.”

you bring a hand up to cover your laugh. “oh my god, h-hiro! that’s so cheesy!”

he laughs with you, squeezing his arms around your waist. maimo chatters on his shoulder, wanting to join in on the fun. she starts bouncing on her little paws, but accidentally slips and tumbles into your bowl of dumplings.

“maimo!”

hanamaki tries to catch her, but he’s too late. you watch as she flops into your bowl, body twisting and turning before jumping out of the it. she kicks some of the dumplings out onto your lap.

pawing at her face, she scurries around your legs, rubbing her now oily body against the blanket.

“more laundry,” you sigh, petting her on the head as an apology.

“she looks like a dumpling,” hanamaki muses.

you nod, smiling to yourself at the fact as he takes her into his arms and grabs the blanket off your lap after you pick the dumplings up.

“well, i’ll go clean her up.”

you nod, standing up to stretch. “i’ll do the dishes then.”

maimo babbles happily in his arms, joining in on your conversation. you and hanamaki smile at each other, matching grins on your face.

with a soft kiss and a promise to get thai food for dinner, you break off for the moment, leaving the sun shining through the window, warming the spot on the sofa the three of you were on.


	2. your spot on the bed; rintarou suna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> without you, it’s a little cold

suna wakes up, eyes blinking drearily.

you’re not in bed. 

he huffs softly through his nose. 

he’ll never admit that he likes it best when he wakes up before you so that he can stare at your messy, cute face so he opts to roll over to your spot on the bed.

it’s still warm.

he pulls the blankets with him and over his head, becoming a big lump of sleepy as he tries to fall back asleep.

he’s almost there, but then you come in, disrupting all that.

“rin!”

he groans.

you roll your eyes, tossing your body over his.

“rin!” you sing. “get up! i made breakfast.”

“no, thanks,” he mumbles.

you climb over him, smiling softly as you push away at the opening of the blankets, finding his face. his eyes are closed.

“rin,” you lilt, lying down next to him, running your thumbs over his cheeks.

he opens his eyes a sliver, merely morphing himself with you as he hugs you, resting his head on your chest.

“rin!” you yell, for the utmost time this morning. “the food’s gonna get cold, c’mon, get up!”

“nope.”

“please?” you try.

he shuffles a bit. you can feel his breath on your neck, making you shudder. he grins, moving up to whisper lowly in your ear, voice husky from sleep as his hands slip under your shirt.

“i’d rather do something else, babe.”

your cheeks warm, heartbeat picking up as you lie in wait.

you hear soft snores coming from him not long after.

“oh for god’s sake,” you mutter.

you fall asleep not long after, lulled in by the weight and warmth of your boyfriend.

breakfast goes cold.

you kick his shin when he complains about it later that morning.


	3. carrot and stick; atsumu miya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> atsumu’s got a lot to learn; based off [this](https://a-riisa.tumblr.com/post/189621039826).

“atsumu!!”

said man grimaces hearing your yell ring across the apartment.

“what the fuck?!” you swear, storming into the living room.

he has his arms up over his head, hiding himself from you.

“you asshole!” you chuck the container of lysol wipes at him, hitting his arm.

“ow! what the fuck?”

“dude! will it, like, kill you to wipe the toilet seat after you pee all over it?”

he rolls his eyes, turning back to the baseball match on the tv. he’s heard this a million times already.

“just wipe it up, babe,” he brushes you off. “s’not that big of a deal.”

you cross your arms. “i’ve told you a million times! it’s called having decency, ‘tsumu. if you’re gonna miss and get it over the seat, then the least you could do is wipe it up!”

“whatever. i’ll do it later,” he dismisses. “i’m tired right now.”

your jaw clenches. taking a deep breath, you walk back into the washroom. you find it funny how guys will spend 25% of their day thinking about how they would sniper their way out of the zombie apocalypse no problem and then walk into the bathroom and miss the toilet from half a foot away.

it makes you furious.

coming out after you’ve finished your business, you walk into the kitchen, grabbing the plastic bag you left inside.

your eyes narrow when you see the back of his head. sitting down on the opposite side of the couch, you take out three cups of the expensive gourmet pudding cups you bought this morning. the bakery that sells them only has a limited stock per day and there’s often a long line for them.

most importantly, atsumu loves them.

he’s on schedule to start a less restrictive diet tomorrow and you bought them to celebrate the end of the season with him.

too bad.

getting comfortable on the couch, you make a show of unwrapping one of them.

he lifts his chin off the palm of his hand, eyes widening.

peeling off the plastic top, you dig in, a satisfied hum escaping your lips as you scoop another portion.

“are—?”

you ignore him, watching the tv as you finish the first cup and move onto the second.

“wait.”

you look over at him, spooning another mouthful.

“yes?”

“are those—?”

“yes.”

he swallows, eyes darting down and then back up to your face.

“can i—?”

“no.”

another spoonful.

he watches with wide eyes as you swallow, turning your head to him to lip your lips as an innocent smile crosses your lips.

“b-babe, please, i’m sorry, so can i—?”

“nope,” you hum, popping the ‘p’.

atsumu watches you in a way akin to a little dog, eyes wide and a barely noticeable pout on his lips as he stares at you while you finish the second cup. if he had ears and a tail, they’d be flattened down.

you sigh dramatically, opening the third cup. atsumu bites his tongue.

“y’know, ‘tsumu,” you say softly. “i planned on sharing these with you to celebrate the end of the season tomorrow, but,” you sigh. “i guess not.”

hook, line, and sinker.

you can see the guilt over his face now.

“b-babe, i-i’m sorry, i’ll do better, so, please?”

he gives you his best puppy dog eyes, looking absolutely adorable.

but you know.

atsumu doesn’t learn unless you teach him well.

so you do.

you finish all three cups, giving him a cheeky smile at the end.

“apology accepted!”

he buries his face in your shoulder from the pain of it all.


	4. i need healing!; eita semi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you’re sick and a little needy.

your coughs ring out in your bedroom.

it’s dark, almost foggy.

“eita,” you croak, turning over, adjusting the towel on your forehead.

“hm?”

he’s sitting on the floor, leaned up against your bed and typing away on the fancy macbook pro he got on sale right before the semester started. you watch his fingers glide across the touch bar.

“what are you doing?”

he shuffles, looking back to give you a kiss on the tip of your nose before turning around. “googling porridge recipes. you should go to sleep.”

“i can’t,” you mumble. your face heats up a little more as your fingertips come up to touch your nose. you stare at the nape of his neck. his hair is getting long and you resist trailing a finger through his pretty ashe strands.

“just close your eyes, baby. the meds will kick in soon.”

your eyes close.

a minute.

two minutes.

you open them again.

he’s still typing away on his laptop.

“eita.”

“go to sleep.”

“i will, but could i,” you voice drops, “get a kiss?”

a small smile breaks out on his face. “i already gave you one earlier.”

he doesn’t have to turn around to know you’re pouting adorably.

“but i want one on the lips,” you insist.

he chuckles, “no.”

“how mean,” you utter, pushing your face into the pillow.

you close your eyes.

a minute.

five minutes.

twelve minutes.

he gets up, closing his laptop.

a soft laugh graces the quiet bedroom, tumbling out his lips like powdered sugar. how’d you fall asleep positioned like that?

he leans down, brushing your hair away to leave a kiss on your forehead, mumbling, “if i start kissing you properly now, how am i supposed to stop at just one?”

your heart races, lunging into your throat.

you listen as the sound of his footsteps trail farther and farther away from you, the light in the room dimming even further when he closes the door.

you swallow your screams, rolling around from side to side as you try to process and commit to memory what he said.

you don’t think you’ll ever forget it.

heart fluttering, you fall asleep, chest warm, to the thought of getting better and finally, finally getting the kisses you deserve.


	5. to-do list; issei matsukawa

“what are you reading?”

issei peeks over your shoulder at the volume of jump you have in your hands.

“the next chapter of blue lock,” you hum, turning the page.

“i thought it was coming out next week.” he stands behind you, reading along as he moves the grocery basket to his other hand to place it on your hip.

“yeah,” you mumble, taking a final glance over before closing it and putting it in the basket as you leave a quick kiss on his jaw.

“did you grab everything else?”

“yeah,” he kisses your temple. “is there anything else you want?”

“hmm,” you mentally tick off things in your head. “oh! lip balm! you can start lining up, i'll be quick.”

he nods and you break off to the cosmetics section. adjusting the strap of your purse, you lean down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as you take a three pack of your favourite lip balm.

you purse your lips. the price went up. oh well, paying an extra dollar is nothing compared to having flakey, chapped lips.

you rush back to issei. he’s next in line. you drop the lip balm into the basket as he moves over to let you slide in with him. he grabs your hand, rubbing his thumb across the soft skin of the back of your hand. you smile up at him, brushing a piece of dust off the collar of his polo.

“hi there.”

you smile politely at the cashier, opting to look over at the candy and gum at the side of the register.

oh wait, did he remember to get coffee filters?

you glance back, looking at everything on the counter. the coffee filters lie next to a bottle of honey. you blink, eyes glancing over everything before landing on a pack of condoms.

you can feel your cheeks warm.

xl.

embarrassment flushes your skin.

you glance back at issei, who merely blinks at you before raising a brow. 

_so this is what it means to be an adult_ , you think. you’re not ready. 

“that’ll be $16.79. do you have a points card?”

how can he look so unfazed? maybe it really isn’t that hard. oh god, you feel stupid now.

issei nudges your arm. “babe?”

“oh, yes, sorry!” you turn to the cashier quickly, opening your purse and taking out your wallet.

you give the cashier your points card, finishing up the transaction. he bags everything without blinking an eye.

you mentally berate yourself, yeah, there really was no point in being so embarrassed over such a little thing. you sigh, hands crinkling the receipt.

“thank you for shopping with us. have a good day.”

you nod, thanking him as issei takes the bags and leads you out the sliding doors.

as you leave, issei turns his head away from you to hide his smile, willing himself to not laugh as he bites the inside of his cheek.

you’re so, so cute and so easy to read.

when he’s steeled himself, he turns back to you. you’re digging the car keys out of your purse.

“babe.”

you glance up at him. “hm?”

he smirks, leaning down to whisper against your ear, voice rich and deep like dark chocolate.

you’re so, so cute and so easy to tease.

“let’s use them tonight.”

he chuckles out loud when your eyes widen and you bring your hands up to cover your face with a small whine.


	6. four-leaf clover; wakatoshi ushijima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you see something interesting on the baby monitor. you have an unnamed son and baby daughter with wakatoshi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspiration taken from [this twitter post](https://twitter.com/fschiko_/status/1294497734355857408?s=20).

you run a hand through your hair, yawning as you make your way back to the master bedroom after tucking your son to bed. turning into the bedroom, you’re greeted by the lovely, heartening sight of your husband cradling your eight month old daughter in his arms as he smiles down gently at her.

“is she not sleepy yet?”

wakatoshi looks up at you, eyes softening a touch more as you climb into bed, sitting next to him.

“no.” she chirps up at the two of you, giggling as she plays with his fingers. “she napped longer than usual today.”

you hum, leaning onto his shoulder and resting a hand on his bicep. you coo at her, “your big brother’s already asleep, you know.”

she smiles at you, making a fist around her dad’s pointer finger. wakatoshi brings her up to leave a kiss on her forehead, smiling when she giggles and taps his face with her tiny hands.

you pat at his arm, looking at him expectantly. he chuckles, kissing your forehead too.

just as his lips leave, his phone vibrates. he passes your daughter over to you, grabbing his phone and unlocking it.

“what’s wrong, ‘toshi?”

“there’s an alert from the baby monitor.”

“baby monitor? but we have her right here,” you say, looking down at your daughter who coos. you kiss her on the cheek, blowing raspberries as she squeals.

wakatoshi hums, a sense of warmth washing over him. he pulls the blankets up to cover you before wrapping an arm around you, bringing you into his chest. he kisses your temple, unable to help himself.

“‘toshi,” you turn to him and finally, he kisses you on the lips. neither of you can stop smiling into it.

when he pulls away, his thumb taps on the baby monitor’s app and brings up the video feed. you lean in, curious as to why a notification was sent.

the video shows your cat lying on the crib, pawing at the toys dangling off the baby mobile whilst lying down. he looks to be having the best time of his life.

you laugh, burying your face into wakatoshi’s chest as it rumbles with laughter. you adjust your daughter in your arms and nudge wakatoshi to have him show her. her body shakes with her little giggles, hands patting her face, legs kicking in amusement.

“buu!”

“how cute,” wakatoshi says, hand holding onto his daughter’s small foot.

“mummy.”

you look up, seeing your son rub his eyes as he stands at the foot of your bed, “what’s wrong, sweetie?”

“did you have a nightmare?” wakatoshi asks, beckoning him over.

he shakes his head, nuzzling into his dad’s chest. your daughter turns her head over to her big brother, waving her arms at him. he smiles, playing with her hands.

“we should get to bed,” wakatoshi notes. “your uncles are coming over tomorrow.”

“really?!” your son looks up at him, sparkles in his eyes. your daughter giggles along with him.

“yes, at 10. and you want to have enough energy to play with them, right?” he adds.

your son nods, getting under the covers and patting your pillows. “mummy, daddy, sleep!”

you and wakatoshi look at each other, smiling softly before tucking yourselves into bed.

your son falls asleep first, all soft snores and messy hair. your daughter follows quickly after him, a tiny hand grabbing onto her brother’s shirt. then, it’s you, a gentle smile on your face as you savour the warmth of your children.

wakatoshi lies watching all of you drift off. his hand finds yours over the blanket, lacing your fingers together.

he’s lucky. knows he is. he managed to find someone beautiful inside and out in you and was blessed with your two precious children.

wakatoshi knows he’s lucky. knows he’s

 _happy_.

and he’d do a lot to keep it, to keep the three of you this way.


	7. free samples; hajime iwaizumi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cute and mundane things in a supermarket.

hajime pouts at the section of oyster sauce on the shelf in front of him; he forgot which brand you preferred. his hand hovers over the one he thinks is right before grabbing and putting it into his basket. he snatches a bottle of mirin before walking out of the aisle and over to the seafood section to find you.

he sees you standing, staring blankly in the front of the tanks.

“baby? what are you looking at?” he stands next to you, following your gaze.

“the lobsters,” you say, pointing at them. “they’re having a fight.”

he raises a brow, watching as one of the lobsters raises itself on his hind legs and opens its pinchers. if he’s being honest, it’s kinda entertaining.

“do you want lobster tonight, hajime?”

he looks at you and then to the price tag before frowning a little.

“they’re too expensive. let’s just get what we usually get.”

you smile, grabbing his hand and holding onto his forearm. “s’okay! we can afford it.”

he huffs through his nose, pulling you towards the fish. “not enough for fresh lobster.”

you sigh, wearily and lovingly. hajime wasn’t frugal, or much a cheapskate but you do wonder what the point of all this sudden saving is if you can’t even enjoy your money. the two of you kept your spending in check, had healthy savings and well-paying jobs. you think back to a month ago where hajime had suddenly become _very interested_ in your budget spreadsheets. maybe, he just wanted to get a head start on your retirement savings?

hajime isn’t a cheapskate. no, not anymore. not when he has a decent amount of disposable income. he just has plans. yes, plans.

he thinks to the engagement ring the jewellers have. 

oikawa tried to convince him to get a better grade diamond for it. when he asked matsukawa and hanamaki about it, their advice came down to a “as long as it makes the both of you happy.”

(“iwa-chan, don’t you think she deserves it?”

of course, he thought, but was that really the best way to show his devotion to you?)

“what about salmon? fresh scallops?” you try, falling in step with him. you glance down over all the seafood in the plastic baskets submerged in water.

his eyes scan over the tanks, stopping at the yellowtail.

“that?” he asks, nodding his head towards it.

“mm, do you want yellowtail teriyaki today then? i think we have some asparagus at home. we can grill them?”

he nods, walking towards the tank. he can already feel himself salivating at the thought of eating your home-cooked meal.

( _and eating them for the rest of his life_ , a small voice at the back of his head whispers.

hajime left the grade of your diamond as is. instead, he opted to change the band it sat on. your matching bands would be pure gold, covered with layer of silver. as the two of you lived your lives intertwined with one another, the silver would fade away to gold.

“iwa-chan!!! that’s so romantic!!” oikawa gushed. 

hajime had grinned proudly to himself, excitement and anticipation brimming in his chest.)

the two of you drift around the supermarket after getting your fish, picking up other essentials and snatching free samples here and there.

“it’s good,” you offer him a grilled fish ball.

he hums his agreement, taking a bite and looking down at the packages of frozen fish balls. he grabs a bag of them and the adjacent package of fishcake too. he looks up, question at the tip of his tongue, only to see you flitting over to the next station of free samples.

“oi,” he appears behind you with a touch on your hip. there’s a small pout on his lips. “stay near me.”

“ahh,” you hold out a piece of gyoza for him as he chomps down on it. “good?”

he nods, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, before tugging you away. you giggle at how cute he looks. 

hajime can’t find himself getting mad when you look so happy. “do you want to have hotpot tonight, baby?”

“hotpot?”

“yeah, we can call everyone to see if they want to come over.”

you smile, a small jump in your step. “okay! it’s been so long since we’ve seen everyone. you think they’ll come with such short notice? i don’t wanna waste any food.”

“s’fine,” he drops the basket on the floor at the line to the cashier. “i’ll eat it all.”

you hum happily, beaming up at him. “you’re such a softie, hajime.”

he leaves a chaste kiss on your temple as he pulls out his cell phone.

 _hard not to be when you’re so cute_ , he thinks.

(he receives a text later that afternoon that the ring would be ready to pick up tomorrow.

he picks it up.

one knee.

you say yes.

you don’t think you’ve ever felt him tremble in your arms like he did when he held you afterwards.)


	8. liquid caramel; kenji futakuchi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i luv sleepy, pouty boys....

kenji yawns, towel drying his hair as he trudges back into your shared bedroom.

he flops down unceremoniously, groaning.

“long day?”

he grunts.

you laugh softly, hands coming up to help him dry his hair. relishing in your touch, he musters what energy he has left to plop himself face down on your thighs.

he nuzzles his face into the soft skin there, inhaling the light scent of your lotion. 

“you’re so soft, babe,” he mumbles. 

“i shaved today,” you tell him, an amused smile on your face. you tousle his hair a couple more times before taking the towel off his head and getting off the bed.

“where’re you going?” he pouts, cheek squished into the mattress.

“i’ll be right back,” you sing.

he watches as you go and disappear into the washroom, still pouting. but he’s so, so tired, too tired to chase after you, so he lies there and wills himself to melt into the bed.

“‘m back!”

getting back into bed, you let him slither up onto your lap again as you pump hair oil into your hands. you work it into his auburn strands, massaging his scalp while you’re at it. his eyes flutter shut in contentment.

“kenji?”

“mm?”

“lie on your back for me.”

he groans, but complies, lying back and resting his head on his pillow.

straddling him, you wipe the residue of the hair oil onto your arms and spare towel and reach over to grab the skin care products you left on the nightstand.

your gentle circles and taps lull him into a sleepy haze.

kenji sighs softly, bringing his hands up to stroke the smooth skin of your legs, dozing off with the feeling of your soft fingers on his skin.

“done!” you chirp softly, kissing his lips gently as you move to get off him.

“no,” he whines. _whines_. your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “stop leaving me.”

“let me put everything away,” you insist. his filter always left him whenever he was super tired, but this is a pleasant surprise. “i’ll be back in ten seconds, promise.”

he pouts at you again, brows furrowed but let’s you go, counting aloud to ten as you rush to put everything away, laughing to yourself as you do so.

“...eight, nine—.”

“ten!” you finish for him, plopping down into bed next to him.

he scrutinizes you, but can’t help the smile breaking across his face as he nuzzles into the soft skin of your neck, breathing in your scent there. he hooks one of your legs over his hip, large hand unable to resist your exposed skin.

“you’re such a big baby, kenji,” you whisper softly, hands threading through his slightly damp strands.

he’s mumbling incoherently, trying to fuse himself into you and your warmth as you pull the blankets up over him.

“good night,” you murmur, leaving a chaste kiss on his hairline.

“mm,” he slurs, voice low, soft and sweet much like caramel, “...love you.”

the sugary, saccharine feeling of giddy happiness settles in your heart, honeying it like candy, as you fall asleep to dreams of sweets and your sweet, sweet kenji.


	9. a bridge of yakitori; yuuji terushima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tanabata festival fun with some fun storytelling! you have an unnamed daughter.

putting the breaks on the stroller, yuuji sits down on one of the empty side benches near the cotton candy stand.

“ahlem!”

“hey, pumpkin,” he laughs.

it’s a cool summer's day in early august. you and yuuji had decided last week to take your daughter out to the city’s annual tanabata festival.

unfortunately, you got called into work this morning for help on a system error that your subordinates couldn’t solve. you promised to meet up with them later and with a kiss goodbye, you left for the office and yuuji with your daughter for the thousands of colorful decorated streamers hanging in downtown sendai.

taking her out of the stroller, yuuji pulls her into his lap and grabs the tray of takoyaki he bought just earlier.

“yaki!” your daughter coos, patting on yuuji’s arms.

he kisses her plump cheeks, chuckling at her squeals and giggles. “be careful, princess, it’s hot.”

blowing on the small, golden ball of batter, he does his best to cool it down, but she can’t wait—patience wasn’t something in her little world, spoiled as she is as daddy’s little girl. 

“daddy!” she chirps, opening her mouth. “ahh!”

he makes a grand gesture of bringing the piece of takoyaki into her mouth, wide sweeps of flair, turning the treat into a fighter jet.

“air force one to base, i repeat, air force one to base! we’re landing!”

your daughter giggles in glee at her dad’s dramatics, keeping her mouth diligently open as he feeds her.

“mmm!” she pats her cheeks in satisfaction, having been fed countless treats within the short time they were here. eyes glittering, she opens her mouth for another and when she’s had her fill, she rests her tiny body on her dad’s chest.

“we still have more,” he says.

“for mummy,” she insists.

yuuji looks back at all the other leftover food on the stroller, a soft smile finding its way to his lips. he kisses her forehead in adoration for her. she must have taken what you said this morning right to her itty, bitty heart.

(“mummy’s gonna be back soon, okay? so remember to save some snacks for me!”

your daughter had nodded diligently at your words, pigtails bobbing at the motion whilst she stuck her pinky out. “pwomise, mummy?”

you knelt down, bringing her in for a hug. “promise. i’ll see you in a few hours by the streamers next to the cotton candy stand, okay?”

she beamed, “‘kay, ‘kay!”)

“daddy,” her voice is small, worried. “where’s mummy?”

yuuji can sense her discomfort with the way her small brows furrow and how she grasps his shirt. setting the takoyaki down, he brings her in a little closer.

“she’s coming, don’t worry! mommy’s working really hard to get here,” he reassures.

“hmm,” she mumbles, looking at the throngs of people walking around.

he can tell she’s not convinced. the sight of her pout has him mentally cursing your subordinates for taking you away from them. taking a breath, yuuji puts a broad smile on his handsome face.

“pumpkin.”

she turns back to look at him.

“while we wait for mommy, do you wanna hear the story behind today’s festival?”

her doe eyes sparkle as she nods her head, hanging on her dad’s every word.

yuuji tells her the grand tale of the famous legend called “tanabata” and its princess, orihime, and her lover, hikoboshi. orihime is a weaving princess and daughter of the king of the sky. they live on the eastern side of the heavenly river, the milky way.

“pwincess?” your daughter gasps.

“yeah!” he grins, eyes twinkling. “just like you.”

she giggles at the compliment, urging her dad to continue.

well, of course, as a weaving princess, orihime weaved and she would weave beautiful clothes for her father. but as she falls in love with hikoboshi who lives on the western side of the river, she neglects weaving clothes for him. this makes her father angry.

“angwy?”

“yeup.”

“poo,” she pouts.

yuuji laughs at her frustration, unable to help himself.

yes, he’s angry, yuuji reaffirms. in fact, so much so that he forbids the lovers from meeting each other ever again, destroying the only bridge on the heavenly river. broken-hearted, orihime cries, tears unstopping.

your daughter’s brows furrow intensely, bottom lip jutting out, hands on her dad’s shirt gripped tight in sorrow for orihime.

seeing this, her father cannot bear it and allows her to meet hikoboshi once a year on the 7th day of the 7th month where a flock of magpies form a bridge on the heavenly river to let them meet.

“one chime? in a year?”

yuuji looks down, freezing when he sees her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“hey, hey!” he soothes. “it’s just a story, pumpkin, don’t cry.”

she buries her head into her dad’s chest, wetting his shirt. how terrible, she thinks. orihime only wanted to see her prince. her dad is a mean bully; how could he only let them meet once? she sniffles, glad her daddy wasn’t like that, glad that her daddy was bright and happy like the sunflowers the three of you saw in hinamori-san’s garden yesterday while going to the park.

yuuji rests his cheek on her little head, rubbing her back. he scolds himself mentally, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to tell her the actual story. he should’ve made up some weird plothole or something.

he picks her up, standing her on his lap, not wanting her to be so sad on such a beautiful day.

“c’mon, sweets! daddy’ll buy you cotton candy, yeah?”

she looks straight at him, putting a small hand on his cheek.

“daddy.”

he cocks his head to the side, curious about her sudden seriousness, “yeah?”

“daddy stay wif me and mummy forever? not one chime?”

he exhales softly, shoulders dropping as his chest tightens.

“forever, promise,” he seals it with a kiss on her nose, watching as a smile finally appears on her adorable little face.

“alright, let’s go get you some cotton candy, yeah?”

“already did.”

yuuji looks behind your daughter, seeing you, beautiful smile, holding a bag of cotton candy and two sticks of yakitori.

“mummy!”

“hey, sweet—oh!”

someone knocks into you, making you drop one of the sticks of yakitori onto the ground. yuuji, with his reflexes, manages to stand up and stabilize you before you fall onto your face.

“you okay, babe?”

you laugh a little, “yeah, thanks, yuu.”

your daughter pouts in the general direction of the crowd, upset the person didn’t apologize.

“i’m sorry i’m late,” you say, offering the cotton candy and yakitori.

yuuji shakes his head, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “don’t worry about it. we have a lot of food for you.”

you glance over at the stroller, bringing a hand up to your chest at all the trays and containers. “oh my, you do.”

your daughter hums happily at your reuniting, squeezing her bag of cotton candy in delight. when you bend down to pick up the skewer of yakitori on the floor, a thought crosses her mind.

“bwidge!”

“bridge?” you raise a brow, disposing of it into the trash bin.

she nods, looking at her dad for support. “daddy! magpies! bwidge!”

his eyes light up in understanding, explaining to you the story of the two star-crossed lovers and how they reunited on a bridge of magpies.

you hide your laugh behind the back of your hand, “and a stick of yakitori is our bridge?”

your daughter nods, a cute smile on her face as you take her into your arms.

and this is cheesy, so, so cheesy, but yuuji knows that no deity could ever keep him apart from the two of you, his princesses. he’d cross the river, heavenly or not, bridge or not.

“daddy! let’s go see the dancers!!”

you turn around, beckoning him over with a bright grin, “c’mon, yuu!”

and like hikoboshi, he bounds over to the two of you, pressing kisses to your cheeks as yearning and full of love as the two star crossed lovers.


	10. you and me against uber eats; tetsurou kuroo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a wrong order and volleyball athletes.

“tetsu!”

he turns his head, closing the lid on the bottle of laundry detergent before walking out into the hallway.

“yeah?” he dips into the washroom, quickly washing his hands, “babe?”

“come here!”

he speed walks into the living room, seeing you set out a giant amount of food from mcdonald’s. his eyes widen almost comically at the sheer amount of it.

you turn around to look up at him, a similar look of shock on your face. “did you order all of this?”

he shakes his head, coming to sit down next to you. “i only ordered two meals and a side of ten nuggets.”

“weird,” you mumble. “there’s six burger meals, forty nuggets and even a salad and three mcflurries. we even have kfc here. the uber eats guy didn’t say anything either.”

he grins, pulling you close with a toned arm as he grabs a bunch of fries, “nice.” 

his delighted expression makes you smile as you take one of the burgers and unwrap it, “there’s no way we’re finishing this.”

“that’s just quitter talk,” he smirks at you.

you roll your eyes, laughing along with him as you bring your laptop onto your thighs, “pick something.”

he picks the anime series you guys didn’t finish last week, letting you set it up on the tv as he sends a photo of your feast to his friends.

“were you doing the laundry, tetsu?”

locking his phone, he hums affirmatively, taking another bite of his burger.

“remind me to bring your suit to the dry cleaners tomorrow. your job interview is in two days, right?”

he angles his face to kiss you. “yeah, thanks, babe.”

you hum, “let’s just hope the uber guy doesn’t come back and ask for us to pay for this, else i won’t be able to afford it.”

tetsurou pulls back laughing, his shoulders shaking, eyes crinkled up.

“i’ll fight him off for you,” he says between laughs.

“yeah?” you roll your eyes lovingly, grabbing one of the drinks, “you and uber guy?”

“the whole company.”

“shut up!” you laugh. “they’re a multibillion dollar company!”

he snorts, grabbing a chicken nugget and dipping into your honey mustard sauce, “didn’t they run a five billion dollar deficit in one quarter or whatever? i'll just mention that, have them on their knees in a minute, don’t worry, babe.”

you laugh, bringing a hand over your mouth as you try not to choke, but you immediately shut up when you hear three loud bangs on the door.

“oh my god, it’s the uber guy,” you say.

kuroo looks scared, eyes wide. he flinched with you when he heard the heavy thuds.

“hey! kuroo! open up!! i know you got donald’s in there!!!”

it’s just bokuto.

“jeez, tell the whole apartment, why doesn’t he?” kuroo gets up to open the door and as you slump against the couch in relief. thank god it was just bokuto; you don’t know how you’d fight off the entire uber company and their fancy lawyers.

“bro!!” bokuto comes in for a bear hug, lifting kuroo onto his toes. he gives one to you right after.

behind him, you see ushijima, atsumu, and akaashi, even kageyama is here. they all say “hi” to you in different levels of enthusiasm.

suddenly, there isn’t enough food. and your apartment is cramped

“atsumu-san, didn’t you have a date with your girlfriend today?” kageyama asks.

“oh?” kuroo raises a brow, smirk on his lips.

“shut up, tobio-kun!” he glares. “weren’t ya goin’ on a run anyways?”

“i just finished.”

“may i have the salad?” ushijima asks.

you nod, bringing it over with a fork to him as he nods his thanks.

you sit down next to him, watching kuroo and bokuto egg atsumu on. kageyama doesn’t mean to participate but his pointed remarks wouldn’t be considered impartial either. akaashi sits on your couch, drowning them out for the anime playing on your tv as he digs into a big mac.

“is this the first episode?” he asks.

“no, the ninth, i think,” you reply, sharing your fries with him.

he hums, “sorry about the noise.”

you wave him off, “it’s comforting at this point.”

he smiles just as the door knocks.

“i can get it,” ushijima puts his salad back on your coffee table and makes his way to the door. you wonder if it's another athlete friend of theirs.

“could i have this fish burger?” kageyama asks, sitting down next to where ushijima was.

“mhm, want some fries too, kageyama-kun?”

he nods, “yes, thank you.”

when ushijima reappears in your living room, bokuto stops him with a question, “who was at the door?’

“it was an uber eats employee. he wanted to know if kuroo received the right order. i told him we had everything we needed.”

kuroo looks back to you. you look at him.

you blink twice.

before he can reply, bokuto does, “is he still here?”

“no, he left,” ushijima says before coming back to sit down.

kuroo looks to you and shrugs. you shrug back.

“’m not surprised he did,” atsumu mumbles, sitting on the floor. 

“well,” bokuto jumps onto the couch next to akaashi and grabs one of the mcflurries, “doesn’t matter now!!” 

while you hope the guy doesn’t get fired, at the end of the day, it’s not like you really care about some multibillion dollar company and their multibillion dollar deficits when you’re cuddled into your boyfriend, junk food and friends strewn in your living room. you half-listen to atsumu and ushijima discuss the deus ex machina plot device of the show.

kuroo kisses your hairline, rubbing your side, “having fun, babe?”

you smile up at him, returning a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“always.”


	11. watercolours in an empty apartment; koushi sugawara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> starting anew.

“lucky!” you say, breathing heavy, falling onto in the gekkan.

koushi closes the door behind you, wiping at his forehead. he puts your bag down on the floor, sighing as he toes off his shoes. helping you up, he looks over your new apartment.

“looks like we got back before the movers did,” he muses.

“yeah,” you huff, taking your jean jacket off. “the weather report said nothing about rain, though.”

koushi laughs, looking back at you, “not like you can trust them.”

“ugh,” you lie down on the tatami mats, “and our towels are all in the movers’ truck.”

he hums, taking off his sweater before lying down next to you and pulling out his phone.

“did they text you, kou?”

he nods, “looks like they’re caught in traffic.”

“great,” you mutter. sighing, you sit up.

koushi watches as you do, arm dropping to his side as he watches you run your hands through your hair and stare out the window.

“it’s stopped raining.”

he looks past you.

“yeah.”

you stay there like that, watching the sky as he watches you do so. the sky is a low blue pink; the clouds look like they’ve been painted on. it’s art--the view of you sitting up on the floor of your new apartment, staring off into nothing. he grabs one of your hands, lacing your fingers together.

“can’t wait,” you mutter.

“hm?” he gets up on his elbows.

you look down at him and he watches as a droplet of water trails down the side of your face.

“for the movers to get here.”

to make this our home, to start the next chapter of our lives together.

koushi grins, bright and soft, “yeah, me neither.”

he gets up to kiss you.


	12. out of their league; chikara ennoshita

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> → and no, i don't want no scrub. a scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me; hanging out the passenger side of his best friend's ride, trying to holler at me [🎶](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2WEogDFByk&frags=pl%2Cwn)

“really? no way, you must be joking!”

“i’m not!”

ennoshita leans against the classroom wall, drinking his chrysanthemum tea. he watches you talk with your friends a couple desks away, picking up parts of the conversation. he smiles softly when you laugh, tipping your head back.

“she’s pretty though. smart too.”

“second best grades in the class.”

“you’d date her?”

ennoshita glances to the side where a group of guys are, following their glances to you. he sits back properly in his seat, picking up his mechanical pencil and spinning it in his hand.

“date? more like i’d do her. and have her do my homework after.”

they laugh.

“shut the hell up, man.”

“you wish.”

ennoshita hates the disgusting way they’re talking about you, but he’s not about to fight a bunch of small fries. you’re taken. literally and figuratively by him. in fact, he took you just last night, roughly, unforgivingly. and you had taken it all with pretty gasps of his name and sweet rolls of your hips for more. he sees no need to stake his “claim” over you when you were already devoted to each other.

he’s still looking at you when you turn back, your face lighting up when you see him.

“chikara,” you walk up to him, reaching for one of his hands. “do you want to come with us to the new sweet shop near 3-chome?”

he can see the guys who were disrespecting you balk at him in the corner of his eye. he wants to laugh but fights it off in favour of squeezing your soft hands.

“sure, are your friends okay with it?”

you nod, smiling brightly, “mm, moe and yurika are bringing their boyfriends too.”

he stands up, grabbing his backpack and dropping his mechanical pencil inside it, “lead the way then, beautiful.”

you giggle shyly, kissing him on the jaw as you pull him towards you friends before heading out the classroom.

he glances back at the group of guys, eyes narrowing. whether the glint in his eyes comes from the sun hitting them or his own wrath, they don’t know. they flinch regardless, envy and irritation evident on their faces as he smirks at them. 

what a bunch of scrubs.


	13. loving you like he’s losing you; tobio kageyama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “although [he] may not be yours, [he’ll] never be another’s” - mary shelley, from a letter to percy bysshe shelley (1814)

you hear the faint sound of a paper crinkling next to you. setting down your pencil, you lift your hand from your cheek, looking over to your left.

“tobio?”

he looks at you, brows furrowed and pout on his lips.

“you’re gripping your sheet a little too tight there,” you point to the upper left corner.

he looks back at it and lets go, doing a poor job of smoothing it out. the pout on his lips only gets more pronounced.

you laugh softly at his frustration. he turns to you, a thoroughly grumpy look on his face.

“oi.”

“s-sorry,” you giggle. “you just look so cute!”

he grumbles incoherently, facing the sheet of paper again and frowning deeply at it in hopes you don’t see the red flush on his cheeks.

(you can see it on the tips of his ears.)

“tobio,” you lean your head on his shoulder and he relaxes it so that you can bury your head there, “do you want to take a break? i can help you with the visa application after.”

he nods and the two of you take the pillows you were sitting on and place them next to each other. tobio falls asleep almost immediately; soft snores with a small scowl on his face as he holds onto your hand.

you run your other hand through his soft, black tresses, watching as they spill from your fingertips. tobio looks almost delicate with the sun behind him, highlighting the dips, curves and angles of his body.

you watch the rise and fall of his chest, the tranquil look on his face and try to fall asleep with him. but its just not happening. sitting back up, you slowly remove your hand from his and try to get back doing your summer homework. you bring your arms up to stretch, laughing when you see his long legs and feet sticking out underneath the low table. he mumbles for a little longer before moving closer to you. he rests his head on the side of your upper thigh, arms going around you.

you let tobio sleep. sleep away the muscle aches and let him rest his body because even to this day, you don’t know if he really knows what a rest day is.

ten minutes.

twenty minutes.

an hour.

two.

tobio grumbles when he wakes up, rubbing at his eyes. you snicker at his mussed up hair.

“s-stop laughing,” he mutters in your clothes.

you look down, amused smile on your face as you run your fingers through his hair again.

“sorry,” you say softly, “you’re just too cute.”

“‘m not.”

you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

“shut up,” he grumbles.

“i didn’t say anything,” you snicker, bending down to kiss him on the cheek.

he sits up to stretch and scratch at his stomach before letting out a loud yawn.

“what time is it?” he asks.

“just a bit after four.”

his eyes widen, the blues of them shining alight. “did you sit here the whole time?”

you shake your head, “i went out and bought some groceries for dinner.”

“oh,” he nods. “thanks.”

“mhm.”

he takes a good look at you. the slump of your posture, the plush of your cheek jutting out where it meets the palm of your hand, the distant look in your eyes.

you look over at him and he opens his arms to let you slump against him. he’s warm, smells faintly of lavender and deodorant.

“tobio.”

you can feel the slight rumble of his chest when he replies with a deep “yeah?”

“I’m gonna miss you,” you whisper, “good luck in italy.”

he pulls you in closer, arms wrapping around you tighter.

(“tobio, we should…”

who wants to be a burden?

closing your eyes, you take yourself off his shoulders.

“we should break up when you leave for italy. i-i don’t want to--.”)

he presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling you down with him as he lays on the floor again.

he thinks he’ll be fine. maybe. he doesn’t know.

(“you’re bound to succeed, tobio,” you had smiled, kissing his cheek. “you’re number one after all.”)

maybe.

he wonders what you’re bound to be.

he closes his eyes.

 _if we’re bound to be something_ , he thinks, _why not together?_


	14. highschool reunion; daichi sawamura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> → seeing people you knew in highschool never turns out right, does it?

“oh my god, daichi!”

you groan in pain, turning towards him as you rapidly flick the button that rolls the car windows down.

daichi turns around, face dropping in shock when he sees your arm stuck right below the elbow in between the window and the top of the car.

“daichi, fuck, it hurts! can you do something?!”

“o-okay! wai—!” he grips the steering wheel with one hand as he jingles the button on his side with his other in an attempt to pull the window down.

“it’s not workin—!”

“daichi!! it’s going up!” you yell. it feels like your arm is being cut off. “daichi!”

“it’s broken!” he yells back.

“can’t you at least pull over or something?!”

his eyes flick to the rear view mirror. “there’s a huge truck behind us—how am i supposed to do that?!”

the truck’s horns blare in retaliation to his distracted driving.

you grimace in pain, “am i supposed to just wait until my arm falls off?!”

“why did you have your arm out anyways?! that’s illegal!”

“just help!!” your voice is on the edge of a scream.

“fuck!” daichi turns back to the road. “i’ll pull over, i’ll pull over!!”

“hurry!”

“at the next intersection!!”

you moan in pain, hoping your arm doesn’t pop out of its socket.

on the side of the road about a tenth of a mile away, kamasaki stands next to his car with his ‘girlfriend’.

he grits his teeth, bending down slightly and gesturing to it, “here, just hit me. c’mon, let’s just end this.”

she brings a hand up, not to hit him, but to her face as she starts tearing up again.

“come on,” kamasaki pleads, continuing to gesture at his cheek. “don’t cry! there’s no point in us going to the resort like this.”

“you’re so insensitive, yasu-kun,” she cries.

daichi sees it a good ten seconds before it happens. it’s almost poetic in a way. poetic cinema: the honking of the heavy duty truck behind the car, the groans and cries of your struggle to dislodge your arm, the top 100s playing from the radio. he’s helpless to stop it, physics wouldn’t allow for a deceleration that wouldn’t have the two of you rammed by the truck behind you.

your eyes open just in time to see your outstretched hand collide harshly with the blonde man’s cheek.

at sixty miles an hour, daichi wonders what that would feel like.

your hand stings.

kamasaki falls to the floor from the impact.

“yasu-kun!!” the girl runs over to him—did she really just see that?

the truck behind you stops honking. daichi turns into the next intersection and pulls the car over.

it’s quiet.

you look over to him, voice soft, arms still out of the car, “was that a crime, dai?”

he buries his face in his hands.

(when daichi sees kamasaki at a bar two nights later, he winces when he sees how swollen his cheek is and promptly tells suga and asahi to go to a different bar.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this scene comes from a korean drama called 'welcome to waikiki' and it has a ton of funny scenes like this. i thought it would be funny if it happened to daichi since he’s a cop and all 💀💀💀 you can watch this exact scene [here](https://arirna.tumblr.com/post/628433918330355712/senator-awesomesause-lightersmash-gudthot)!


	15. living is burning; akinori konoha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shopping and existential crises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on a quote from lucy keating’s [‘dreamology’](https://www.aseaofquotes.com/post/151161864664/lucy-keating-dreamology) and [shukatsu](https://univinjapan.com/shukatsu.html), the “japanese job-hunting system”.

“they will catch us in no time if we steal a single car. but if we steal a hundred cars, then they might have a harder time figuring out which one we’re on.”

“what the hell,” konoha mutters, eyes narrowing at the tv screen.

“giorno, what does that mean?” the other blonde character asks.

konoha stares raptly, waiting for the giorno character to explain himself.

“what are you watching?”

his eyes flicker over to you before he shakes his head and takes your hand in his. “something weird.”

“jojo? oh, is that part five?”

“maybe,” he has no idea. he also has no idea how one would steal a hundred cars instead of just one, but whatever. “what did the employee say?”

“they’re out of stock for the wooden ones in this branch though she said we could come by thursday when they get a restock. do you just want to leave and go to costco for groceries before heading home?”

he sighs tiredly, “yeah.”

you laugh, patting his chest, “we’ll be done soon, hotshot.”

he huffs, letting you drag him around the different displays. it’s been nearly two hours since the two of you stepped foot in ikea and yet you still weren’t able to find a new, suitable dresser for your bedroom.

“can we just put in an order?” he asks, “or reserve one?”

“don’t want to look around anymore?” you tease.

“no,” he deadpans.

you laugh, “okay, i’ll make a reminder to reserve it online tonight then. though it would have been nice to see it.”

“i trust you,” he says, pushing the elevator buttons.

you hum, squeezing his hand as you make your way into the parking lot.

the car ride to costco is quiet; the windshield wipers amplify the silence. a hue of red tints the water droplet cascading down your car.

“aki.”

inside a family restaurant, he sees a young kid, maybe around seven, reach across the table. he knocks over his cup of water. his parents jump up, the curly hair of his mother springs with the motion.

“Yeah, babe?” he mumbles. the dad calls over a waiter.

the traffic lights flash green.

“later.”

“hm.”

maybe this was a bad idea. you sigh, biting your lip as you flick on your turn signal. you thought it’d be a good distraction for him to leave the house, get some fresh air and forget about things for a while.

you take one more final glance at him before focusing on the road.

konoha clenches his jaw. he knows its stupid to worry about it. he did what he could, his best, but it fucking _sucks_ to not hear back. it felt like he’s been just throwing job applications into the void. frustration and exhaustion wears on his skin and muscles; he worked hard, but did he work hard for it all to be worth _nothing_? it’s almost like hunger—a hollowness inside that just wants something to call its own because he feels like a collection of dismantled almosts. he doesn’t know what to do. he doesn’t know anything, feel anything, understand any—.

“aki.” 

he looks, looks. you’re standing in front of him, umbrella in hand. you’re in costco’s parking lot. it’s pouring now.

“fuck, shit, sorry” he mutters, shaking his head and unbuckling his seatbelt.

you take his hand and he slows, taking a breath.

“hey.”

he pulls you in closer, “yeah?”

“you’ll be okay.”

he nods, swallowing. he doesn’t really believe it but he feels guilty. so, so guilty for pulling you through this mess with him. he hates how you have to comfort him, how he’s let you down, but regardless, regardless, regardless, he holds onto you.

(with you in his heart, he can bear anything.)

“actually,” you say, holding his cheeks, balancing the umbrella on your shoulder. “you're not just going to be ok, you're going to be better.”

it surprises him, how a gesture so small can feel so very big. how sometimes he doesn't realize the nervousness or sadness he was holding deep inside until the touch of someone he loves, you, lets it all out of him, like his entire body is exhaling.

he nods, heart lodged in his throat. it’s a little hard to breathe, in a good way. a good way, you are.

“aki, do you want to stay in the car and nap for a bit?” your voice is soft, beautiful. “i’ll be back soon.”

he smiles, tiredly, lovingly.

“no, i’ll go with you.”


	16. liquid light; sachiro hirugami

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by this [untitled quote](https://yourpunctuationuse.tumblr.com/post/189975773313/untitled) by brigitte taurus. reader is pregnant.

walking into the breakroom, sachiro groans, stretching his neck and shoulders.

“tired already?”

sachiro smiles tiredly at the other junior veterinarian, ikusa, and takes a seat diagonally across from his, putting his lunch bag down on the table.

he sighs, “a customer brought in an english mastiff today.”

“oh? we don’t get many of those here.”

sachiro hums, unzipping his bag, “yeah, she was nearly 80kgs.”

“shit,” ikusa laughs. “what do you have for lunch today?”

sachiro brightens up at the question, “dim sum.”

“and let me guess,” ikusa leans back in his seat and crosses his arms, “your wife handmade them?”

“wish i could say the same.”

sachiro looks to his left, “oh, hello, rinya-kun.”

the intern nods to him.

“you’re in a relationship?” ikusa asks.

“with this job,” rinya quips, taking a bite of his sandwich.

ikusa snorts.

sachiro gives a quiet laugh before standing up to use the communal microwave. as he watches the tupperware turn inside, he thinks back to you this morning. you, in your soft cotton and silk nightgown, puttering towards him with his bento. his smile had grown so easily. with a hand over your round stomach, another on the back of your head, his hands on you in the softest ways, sachiro pulled you in for a soft kiss. when he pulled away, you had smiled so beautifully that he thought about marrying you all over again.

the microwave beeps and sachiro pulls his container out to return to his seat.

“oh, it smells good,” rinya comments, tearing the cover off a cup of pudding.

“handmade, huh,” ikusa comments, peering at the dim sum.

“nothing better,” sachiro adds. he picks up a shrimp dumpling and pops it in his mouth, chewing happily. he half-listens to their conversation, taking the time to savour each piece you made him.

sometimes, he eats a meal so wonderful (well, that’s anything you make him—well, _almost_ anything) that he thinks: “why on earth would i eat anything that isn’t this?” and then proceeds eats it up so quickly that it turns into: “i can’t eat any more.” he’s so full that he could just collapse and he would be fine with that being his last meal because it’s just so good. but god, he wants more. it’d be a shame to not devour it all. so he makes room for one more bite.

sometimes he is so in love with you that he wonders if it’s possible to fit more of you inside his heart. but you’re bigger than his heart. he can still find more space for you in his brain. he can still squeeze some more of you into his spirit. he’ll make room.

like the shumai with extra filling you made him, he’ll make room. for you and the baby, too.


	17. freshly baked bread; issei matsukawa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if it’s meant to be, it’ll be, just... let it be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: reincarnation au, themes of war, burning (fire), heavy angst, being stabbed in the chest, character death, love between social classes, happy ending

issei cuts through the thicket of vines and thorns surrounding the outer walls of your cell. he pushes himself through the crumbled opening of the walls, thankful that the palace treasurer allocated _just_ enough funds for the prisons’ head guard to not fix this particular deteriorating block.

not like it matters when the rest of the castle is a bright, blazing, angry fume of red, orange and white.

he runs, sprints, chest heaving against his heavy armor. the weighted steel is an ever present reminder of who he is.

and who you are.

“issei!”

he unlocks and pulls you out of your cell, “run.”

you nod, picking up your now tattered, dirty gown. unfitting for a princess so delicate, so beautiful, so treasured.

so treasured that her father poured every coin he had into his army to scorch the earth of the empire that stole you from him.

he guides you outside, far, far away from the red, orange and white and into thick green, brown and dark, dark, black before stopping and turning to look at you.

“issei?” your voice is light, airy; he loves it, loves the way you say his name almost as much as he’s come to love you.

he turns towards the direction of the moon, straight ahead.

“your army is there, beyond the forest,” he says, pointing in its direction.

“but what about you?” you ask, taking his hands into yours.

he pulls you against him, holding you delicately, tightly. he wishes he had more time. more resources. the courage to have snuck you out last week and run away with him.

but he doesn’t have any of that.

you pull back, tears brimming in your eyes, “come with me,” you whisper.

“i can’t,” he chokes.

not with how delicate, how beautiful, how treasured you are.

“then,” you swallow inaudibly, a lone tear slipping down your cheek, “kiss me, please.”

how tortuous. he wants so badly to give in and open up and just take but he can’t—he’d never be able to stop and it would kill him, like giving a dying man a sip of water before snatching it away.

how terrible and cruel the world must be to be so close and yet how very wrong it is, like this.

“i c-can’t.”

his forehead rests on yours, tears dropping on your glistening cheeks.

his voice is soft, eyes full of longing and regret because he will never get another chance but he knows that he would hate himself. and yet, god it’s so, so tempting, but no, not like this.

he wants a soft kind of love. a best friends kind of love. a "good morning, baby, i'll make you tea and meet you in the bath" kind of love. he wants lazy mornings spent in bed and slow afternoons making lunch side by side. he wants the kind of love that makes him question if he’s ever felt love before. he wants slow and steady and he wants jumping headfirst into anything as long as you’re together. the kind of love that feels like home and like a great adventure. he wants that love.

but, he supposes, in the end, that the whole of life becomes an act of letting go. 

but what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye.

“i love you,” he whispers, through his tears.

you can’t help the sob that escapes your lips. this is grief and you learn that it’s just love. it’s all the love you want to give to the strong, weak man in your arms but cannot. all of that unspent love is in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in the hollow part of your chest. grief is just love with no place to go.

so you give it one.

tiptoeing, you pull him down, molding your lips, tears, and souls together as one. he holds you. you feel held by him. he feels like home.

i love you, i love you, i love you. love you, love you, love you. love, love, love, love.

you.

“take this off,” you beg.

he takes off the armor on his torso. anything for you.

and this time, your hearts meet along with your lips.

he dies on your lips, on your heart, on that scorched earth that night as you swallow down the grief, the love, the life you’ll never have in your carriage, holding onto his engraved shortsword to your chest. your father brought you home, but he also brought grief home, like a second daughter. she made a home of your heart, your soul, of the life you could never have.

you follow after him in the morning on the plush of your bed, the soft morning sunlight peeking through your silk curtains. him and his shortsword buried deep in your heart.

but maybe, somewhere, some time, someday, issei makes toast for you in the morning, doing his best to get it the way you like. _he’s_ made a home of your heart, your soul, of the life you _live_. here, in this time, this day, this love, love is made, like bread. remade all the time, made new.

“issei,” you mumble, nuzzling sleepily into his chest, free of any steel, “i love you.”

he kisses the crown of your hair, where jewels and diamonds were, and runs a hand up the soft, pristine cotton nightgown you wear that perfectly suits delicate, beautiful and treasured you.

“i love you more, princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so as much as i wrote this, i did not! a lot of the passages were taken from the following authors, poets, movies and books and i strung all of them together for ‘freshly baked bread’: garlicdad, [jamie anderson](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/9657488-grief-i-ve-learned-is-really-just-love-it-s-all-the), [life of pi (2012)](https://timotaychalamet.tumblr.com/post/160322966115/life-of-pi-2012-dir-ang-lee) dir. ang lee, [the chronology of water](https://goghtae.tumblr.com/post/616406390741827584) by lidia yuknavitch, [the lathe of heaven](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/779-love-doesn-t-just-sit-there-like-a-stone-it-has) by ursula k. le gui and [midsommar (2019) script](https://goghtae.tumblr.com/post/614493653498462208/midsommars-ari-aster-midsommar-2019-script) by ari aster. 
> 
> this was my goodbye piece for my audience on tumblr @ strawbericream.


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